


Incoming Strike

by jjtaylor



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Beau likes women who can break her, F/F, The Cobalt Soul, Zedash, fighting and fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-23 01:22:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21311827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjtaylor/pseuds/jjtaylor
Summary: Dairon doesn't fumble. She's sure and she's skilled.Prompted by and written after Episode 55: Well Beneath, but set during Beau's stay in Zedash.
Relationships: Dairon/Beauregard Lionett
Kudos: 63





	Incoming Strike

Training with Dairon becomes more challenging just when Beau thinks she’s getting a handle on it. While Beau picks up new skills quickly under her tutelage, Dairon gets to know her in a way that no other opponent has ever had the time to. Beau's body is her power and she holds tightly to the privileged information of its shortcomings. But Dairon seems to know exactly where Beau is sore in the second session of the day – not where Dairon hit her, but the places around it where her muscles tensed, where they compensated for weakness. The crick in her neck from how she slept. The hesitation in her step where her footing seems just the slightest bit off.  


“How can you read my body so well?” Beau groans after being knocked down again.  


“This is what we do,” Dairon says. “Understand the deficiencies of the physical form.”  


“No, but you just hit me where I bumped into the damn railing yesterday. I'd forgotten about it until you found that spot. How are you doing that?”  


“I know your body well,” Dairon says. It's a statement of fact, but Dairon's not the only one to notice subtleties. Dairon looks down, trying to hide what small flicker of emotion she can't control on her face.  


Beau takes the opening. “I bet you'd like to know it better.”  


Dairon's strike is hard and quick. Beau goes down again, and again, and when her nose is bleeding from both nostrils and her fingers are so numb the only way she can be sure she's still holding on to her staff is to look down at her hands, Dairon declares their training is done and stalks out, leaving Beau thoroughly beaten and appropriately scolded.  


Washing up, she rubs her palms over the bruises like the gifts that they are.

She wakes in the darkness of her guest room at the Cobalt Soul, as bare as the one she'd called her own when she was a student. There's a presence approaching her door; someone with deliberate, slow steps. Beau's there to open the door before Dairon knocks, and the expression on Dairon's face, in the flicker of the hallway sconces, is proud, before it's shuttered once more.  


“Beauregard,” Dairon greets her, “May I come in?”  


Beau stands aside, opening the door all the way.  


The room, while not particularly small, closes in tight in the darkness. Dairon does not bother to make any light.  


“I have come to apologize,” Dairon says. Beau was expecting either a scolding for her insubordination yesterday or some midnight training challenge.  


“What for?” Beau asks.  


“The previous day's training ended in an outright attack.”  


“Yeah, that's what I'm here for.”  


“It was not training. It was a distraction.”  


“Also kinda thought that was the point. Catch me unawares.”  


“In this instance, it was you who caught me.”  


Understanding dawns on her. She hadn't been taking to task just for being an arrogant shit. Dairon had been deflecting.  


“Oh,” Beau says, because she's never been good at this part and whatever skills she does have don't apply with Dairon.  


She needn't worry. Dairon, as ever, takes the lead. She steps forward, closer into Beau's space, and there's the vibrating intensity of an incoming strike, but instead it's Dairon drawing close enough that Beau can feel her breath on her cheek.  


“I do want to know your body,” Dairon says. “I want all of its secrets.”  


Beau gasps, a too obvious giveaway but she already knows Dairon is a superior opponent.  


Dairon continues to push into Beau's space, hands the last thing to touch, a monk's best weapon, coming up around Beau's neck, fingernails just scraping her hairline. Beau closes her eyes and Dairon finally kisses her.  


Her kiss is deep and exploratory and it's not enough. Beau takes Dairon's bald head in her hands and kisses her fiercely. It's like their training, Dairon striking first and Beau attempting to gain back control.  


Dairon methodically undresses Beau as effortlessly as if she's undressing herself. She presses her palms against Beau's breasts, rough calloused skin against her nipples. Beau sighs and leans in, and Dairon moves her touch down across Beau's ribs, still aching from the fight. Beau winches, grabs Dairon's wrists to push her away, but Dairon quickly frees her hands, and she begins undressing herself. Beau tries to help – no, she's trying to lead. Dairon knows this and grabs Beau's forearms, shoves her away. Beau rebounds, feet against the wall, propelling herself back at Dairon.  


Dairon catches her and shoves her down on the bed. Dairon's robes are half-open, forming a curtain around Beau's torso. They grapple, and Beau manages briefly to get on top before Dairon easily throws her off, reversing their positions, and sits astride Beau's hips, pinning her arms at her sides. Beau fights against the restraint and Dairon holds her tighter until Beau groans.  


“Yes,” Dairon whispers. “Submit to me.”  


Beau doesn't relent; it's a fight and she has to win, but Dairon kisses her neck, presses her teeth against Beau’s jugular. She feels the moment Dairon accesses her Ki. It's overwhelming and it really is submission -- Beau frozen, bested. Dairon moves her mouth down Beau’s throat, across her collarbones, over her breasts.  


Dairon lets Beau’s arms free and Beau’s about to make her move to get back in charge, when Dairon spreads her hands across the inside of Beau’s thighs, fingers dig so tight it hurts. Beau is once again dazed by Dairon's strength. Dairon reads her, reads the moment she's weak. She strokes Beau’s labia then pushes a fingers inside her, and Beau moans. Dairon doesn't fumble. She's sure and she's skilled. Beau can do nothing but arch her back, pushing her hips toward Dairon, tip her head back and try to stifle the sounds Dairon draws from her. To suppress the waves of pleasure, of need, suffusing her whole body.  


Dairon curls her fingers inside Beau and catches her clit with her thumb on each stroke, and Beau's shout escapes her. Dairon kisses her to swallow the sound.  


Beau comes hard, a full body shudder, clenching around Dairon's fingers deep inside her, feet slipping against the sheets, sweat pooling between her breasts. Dairon doesn't wait for her to recover. She moves down between Beau's legs and fucks her with her tongue, and Beau screams into the crook of her arm. Her legs tremble, and the points of Dairon's ears and the cold hoop of her earring brush against the inside of Beau's thighs in a contrast that feels overwhelmingly intimate.  


Beau comes again, so fast it steals her breath, head tipped back, eyes squeezed shut. Dairon moves up and kisses Beaus jaw, and Beau takes the moment to flip Dairon on her back. Beau's breath is short and her pulse is still pounding but she needs to make Dairon feel what she felt.  


“Show me what you’ve learned,” Dairon commands. Beau uses her mouth and her fingers and Dairon moving under her ministrations makes Beau dizzy. Dairon is quiet save for her sharp exhalations, and it sounds so much like the training earlier that Beau feels a rush of confidence. She wants to show off. To show Dairon how good she is.  


Diaron’s climax is quiet, but her body shakes with it, and abruptly she has Beau pinned underneath her again in one smooth movement.  


“Do you want me to—” Beau starts to say, because she was prepared to work a little harder.  


“Like this,” Dairon says, wetness rubbing against Beau's leg. Beau flexes her thigh, rocks up against Dairon, meeting her as she moves. Dairon makes the first helpless sound Beau has ever heard out of her.  


“Yeah,” Beau spurs her on. “Yeah, use my body. Take what you need.”  


Dairon groans, putting her hands on Beau's shoulders and pushing her down. With a slight readjustment, Dairon's thigh is between Beau's legs and Beau's voice catches on her encouragements. Of course Dairon would be able to match up their bodies like this, to know exactly how to be positioned to affect both of them.  


It becomes a contest, again, always between them. Dairon grabs Beau's wrists and pins her arms down again. Beau presses up harder as Dairon rocks forward, but Dairon has the advantage of angle and switches between slick rubbing and strong sustained pressure that throbs deep inside.  


Of course, Dairon is victorious, making Beau come first, shouting and losing her rhythm, and Dairon takes over, bringing herself to completion riding Beau's thigh, then letting her weight fall, comforting and heavy, on top of Beau.  


“Fuck, you're good at that,” Beau says, voice hoarse.  


“I am good at many things,” Dairon murmurs. “And soon, so may you be, too.” She dresses quickly, and before Beau can figure out how to respond, she's gone.


End file.
